Gene Wolfe - The Wizard

The old helm gone, I recognized him at once, strong, sharp-featured as any fox, and crowned with fire—not the floating hair of the Fire Aelf, which only suggests flames, but real fire, red, yellow, and blue, snapping and crackling.

“You know me,” he said, “and I know you. You called me the youngest and worst of my father’s sons not long ago, and insulted my wife.”

“I meant no insult,” I said. “Would I insult two people I fear so much?”

“You boast of fearing nothing.” He frowned at Gylf. “You’ve stolen one of my father’s dogs. He won’t like that.”

“No,” Gylf said shortly. “He knows.”

“Then I don’t like it.” He smiled. “But I’ll overlook it. You need me. I don’t need you, not at all, except for fun. You know I have a kind heart.”

I managed to say, “I know you say you do.”

“I’m a liar, of course. I take after both parents in that. Not lying—I never lie—I offer help. For fun. Because it amuses me. Still, my offer is real.”

I only struggled to master my fear.

“You people complain of us—the same things the Aelf say about you. We pay no attention, we don’t care whether you live or die. What’s the use of becoming a druid? Why pray, when nobody listens? All right, here I am. Do you deny I’m an Overcyn?”

Gylf spoke for me. “No. You are.”

“Correct. Nor am I the least of us. Will I hear your prayer, standing here before you? I couldn’t miss it if I put my fingers in my ears. Kneel.”

I knelt, and Gylf lay down beside me.

“Excellent. If I told you to touch your nose to the carpet so I could put my foot on your head, would you do it?”

“Yes,” I said. “I’d have to.”

“Then we’ll dispense with it. Pray.”

“Great prince of light,” I began, “prince of fire—”

“Never mind. We don’t need that. Let’s just say I’ll grant three wishes. I know what they’re going to be, but you have to say them. What do you want? Not two, and not four.”

“Food. Enough for everyone ‘til we fight.”

“That’s right. What else?”

“More men.”

“Too vague. One man? Two?”

“Ten thousand.”

He laughed, a terrible sound. “I can’t do it, and you couldn’t manage them. Five hundred. That’s my best offer.”

“Then I accept it.” I had recovered some part of my self-possession. “And thank you most sincerely.”

“You’ll have to do more than that. The third?”

“Cloud. Your father gave her to me, but I lost her when the queen imprisoned me. I think she’s been looking for me, and I’ve been looking for her.”

“You’ve changed, both of you,” he told me. “You met the most low god.”

“Yes,” I said.

“He grants wishes, too, but he grants them in such a way that you wish he hadn’t. I never stoop to that.”

I said I was glad to hear it.

“However, you may feel that I stooped to something of the sort after I catch Cloud for you. Send her away if you do. She won’t cling like a curse, believe me. Still, she costs a wish. Do you want her?”

“Yes,” I said.

“All right. When do you want the men?”

“Now.”

“I can’t do it. I’m going to need time to work.”

“As soon as possible, then.”

“Fair enough. You may stand.”

I rose. He had been no taller than I when I knelt, but he had grown by the time I rose, so tall that I was afraid his crown would ignite the roof of the pavilion.

“Payment will be simple and easy, but fun. What’s more you’ve already done it, as we both know. Break the promise you made my father. Again.”

I could not speak.

“It’s letting you off far too cheaply, isn’t that what you’re about to say? I’ll like it just the same. He trusts you, and I enjoy salting his silly dreams with reality now and then. Will you do it?”

Looking up at him (for he seemed farther above me now than he had when I was on my knees) I could not help but see how handsome he was, and how shifty. “I’ll do it,” I said, “but you must give me the things I’ve asked for first.”

“What!” It was feigned anger. “Don’t you trust me?”

“I won’t argue. Do as I say or do your worst.”

“Which would kill you and every friend you have.”

I scratched Gylf’s ears.

“Do you think my father wouldn’t forgive me for killing a dog? He’s forgiven me far worse.”

Gylf licked my fingers.

“He’d die for you, of course he would. Would Disiri? Would you want her to?”

I turned to go.

“Wait! I won’t haggle, and I want to make that clear. Here’s what I’ll do. I’ll get you the food and the men—half a thousand tough fighting men—as soon as can. Let’s say it takes...” He stroked his chin. “Ten days. When you’ve got them, you’ll have two of your wishes. Agreed?”

I nodded.

“At that point you must break your word to my father. Not just some technicality, three times and big and showy.”

I said, “Suppose three times isn’t enough?”

The truth, Ben, is that I had already decided before I went into that pavilion. If I could have pulled bread out of the air, I would have already. I could not. There were a lot of things I could not do, raising the dead and so on. But there were things I could do, and I had settled on them, although without Lothur I might have changed my mind.

Did he know it? Shape my payment as he did, because he did? It is possible he did, but I do not believe it. He is as clever and cruel as a den of foxes, and knows more tricks than a score of Vils; but his father sees far.

And very deep.

Had the queen summoned me that night as well, I would not have been surprised; I knew she was Morcaine’s ally, and that one might sift a thousand foolish women without finding even one fool enough to trust Morcaine. The queen would want my account of what had transpired that night, as well as hers.

I was surprised just the same, for the queen came to me, crouching beside me as I slept, while Lamwell stood guard. She touched my shoulder. I sat up and saw him—a small figure with a great crest of white plumes and a drawn sword.

“Here, Sir Able.” It was as though a dove had spoken.

I turned. Her robe was dark, but her golden hair glowed in the moonlight and her pale face shone. “You’ve plighted your troth to my sister-in-law,” she said. “That is well. She has remained too long—what are you doing that for?”

I had picked up the old helm and was putting it on. “I may need to protect you from the king’s men, if not from the Osterlings.” The moonlit woman shrank, her fair face younger still. “We’re both kids, Your Majesty, and us kids have to stick together, or the wolves will tear us apart.”

“You must hate me. She said you did.”

“How could I hate you, when the king loves you?”

“Prettily spoken. May I pet your dog?”

“I could not match you in wit, Your Majesty. Nor would it be fitting for me to try.”

She laughed softly, a delightful sound after Morcaine’s laughter, and Lothur’s. “I didn’t think you’d understand that. There’s more to you than meets the eye, Sir Able.”

“Less, Your Majesty.”

“Won’t you take it off? So I can see your face?”

“Sir Lamwell’s my friend, Your Majesty, and I’ve seldom known a truer knight. But if you were to order him to kill me, he would—or would try.”

“But I won’t!”

“You can’t know that, Your Majesty, and I surely can’t.”

“My husband knows more of sorcery than his sister, Sir Able.” Gaynor’s coo, soft already, had grown softer still. I told her I was aware of it.